


Blind Noise

by Jenwryn



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-21
Updated: 2008-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows why people fall in love. Because it feels so good. Yeah. Right...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Noise

_‘Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come._'  
~ Matt Groening, "Life in Hell".

*

Everyone knows why people fall in love. Because it feels so good. Because it's the road to true happiness. Because it's what makes the world go 'round.

Because all you need is love, love, love.

Yeah.

Right

Because this agony you're feeling is without a doubt _the best emotion ever_. Sure. You've never been more pleased, why is why you're sitting here in the corner of your bedroom with your knees drawn up to your chest and your head buried in your hands, and the image of his eyes playing over and over and over in your mind, on loop, regardless of how hard you're squeezing your thumbs against your forehead in an effort to make it stop. If you could just get those eyes out of your head it would all be fine, but you can't, and it makes no sense, not even remotely, because it's not like you haven't seen those eyes every single day since almost as far back as you can remember. You arrived at Wammy's and there were those eyes as a greeting, peering at you big and dark and somewhat suspiciously, from just behind Roger. Those eyes have always been there ever since - watching, learning, later laughing and smiling and plotting mischief. But now, today, man, it just isn't fair and - and it bloody _hurts. _It aches and throbs and pains and gobbles away at your guts, and you know it's supposed to be the best thing ever because you might like games but you're not completely ignorant of the world, and actually it is the best thing ever too. You're so freaking moved that you just want to cry, and that's absurd because you haven't cried since before you moved to Wammy's, and certainly not about something so stupid as the realisation that your best friend's eyes are the most amazing thing on the face of the planet and - have you mentioned, it's just not fair? That, and you think you might throw up if you don't keep your head pressed down as close as you can against your knees.

And maybe that's why you don't hear the door open and close again, and you can probably blame the carpet and his shoeless feet on not hearing him walk towards you, and possibly that's why the jolt of his hand against the strip of bare skin between your hairline and the collar of your shirt makes you - uh - screech quite the way you do. Also jerk your head back against the wall so hard that you're left seeing little spots of light, and squinting up at him through the dancing silver flecks, even as he stares back down at you with a slightly bemused expression and asks, "Since when do you squeal like a girl, Matt?"

You'd answer him, you really would, except that his hand is still on the nape of your neck and all you can feel is that, and all you can see are his curious eyes, and your stomach has decided to move about twenty inches from where it usually is, and, as a result, you sort of just stammer something incomprehensible that may as well be Tongan for all you can understand it, although Mello, inexplicably, seems to have made sense of it because there's this smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and he tilts his head to one side and observes, smirking outright now, "You're twitching."

So, maybe you are, and now you're almost 75% sure that you're going to vomit, and that would be probably the worst thing ever except perhaps-

"Matt."

It's futile to try and avoid looking at him when he uses that voice to speak your name, and you hate yourself for it, because you know that voice, because it's the one you've heard him use a thousand times on the girls when he wants to get his way about something, and he's not supposed to be using it on you because you're a boy and he's your best friend and he's Mello and oh yeah you're a _boy_. But you look up at him anyway and discover that he's knelt in front of you and his eyes are darker than ever and much too close to yours and you'd wriggle back to escape their gaze and the scent of chocolate on his warm breath, but there's that wall behind you and you're kinda stuck. Your brains are racing with a rush of blind noise, and your stomach has lurched even further out of place, and your pulse is pounding much faster than you were advised was normal during biology lessons. And none of it is helped by the fact that Mello is kneeling there before you and he's looking at you as though you're not the person you were half an hour ago, as though you're suddenly the most fascinating thing known to humanity, and then he says your name again, but this time it's _Mail_ and you've never heard that new voice he uses, not even when he was trying to wriggle his way out of the worst trouble, that's a completely new voice and it's doing terrible things to your intestines and maybe other bits of your anatomy, and it's not right because he's your best friend and he's a BOY and so why-

The strangest thing is that all that blind noise, all that roar of terror and aching pain and utter confusion, all that screaming of mind and heart and limbs, it all falls away into the most extraordinary, extraordinary silence when that hand on your neck tightens its grasp and his lips meet yours. Silence. Silence and nothing else matters. Nothing else matters, and nothing else ever will.

Nothing but silence and nothing but him.


End file.
